Robert Asprin's Myth-Fits

by Jody Lynn Nye

  “We are afraid that they will escalate to”—Savva could hardly choke out the word—“violence.”

  “Winslow will fail!” wailed Kurtsie.

  “That would be terrible!” Tananda said. “I love it here.”

  “Oh, thank you,” Nurgin said, taking her hand gratefully. “To hear that means everything to us!”

  “So everything is starting to circle the drain,” Aahz said. “Winslow’s hit the skids. Just no one knows it yet.”

  “That’s not true,” Dure said.

  “Don’t try to kid a kidder. None of you has had a decent night’s sleep. Who’s your backup?”

  “We don’t have any,” Olk admitted.

  Savva grimaced. “I should be at home with my children. I’ve been here for days.”

  Relags nodded. “Our employees are helping to keep everything moving, but eventually, they won’t be able to cope. We’ll stand behind them as long as we can!”

  Kurtsie raised a quavering finger. “I should have retired a month ago, but I couldn’t leave my colleagues in the soup. We won’t give in to blackmail.”

  I was horrified.

  “What are they blackmailing you for?” I asked. “Gold? Power? A piece of your business?”

  “Why, for all your preferences,” Olk said, surprised. “We keep track of what you like and what you don’t like, from your first visit onward. We know almost everything about our visitors, and what we don’t know, we research. We store that knowledge and make use of it as need arises. These other . . . concerns . . . would like to have that information.”

  “For blackmail purposes?” I asked, drawing my eyebrows downward over my nose.

  “No! Marketing. That information is worth thousands of gold pieces to the right people. Blackmail is temporary, and creates lasting resentment. But if you know exactly the person to present your wares to, who you know will buy based on past experience, you will save time and earn much more money than you would otherwise, and for an extended period.”

  “Years!” added Savva.

  “Possibly for the rest of your lives!” added Relags.

  I mused on that, but Aahz was expansive in his approval.

  “That’s brilliant!” he said, clapping Olk on the back. “With thinking like that you could almost be Pervects!”

  “Er, thank you,” Olk said, not looking as grateful for the compliment as Aahz thought he should be. “But that isn’t why we collect that information. We use it to give you the very best service possible and make your visit here as enjoyable as we can make it. Not to exploit you.”

  “Never!” exclaimed Savva. “What a terrible idea!”

  “Looks like those ‘concerns’ you’re talking about agreed with Aahz about your files,” Bunny said. “What are you doing about it?”

  “Well,” Olk said, a sheepish expression on his face, “we hired one concern like yours to deal with those, er, not-so-nice people, but they don’t seem to be getting anywhere.”

  “But why didn’t you come to us?” I asked.

  “We considered going to M.Y.T.H., Inc., but well, frankly”—Olk looked embarrassed—“we were talked out of it.”

  “By whom?” I asked.

  “By the, er, concern we hired to find the Nix Pyx and stop the blackmailers.”

  “Can we get a little more specific?” Aahz said, impatiently drumming his fingers on the tapestry. “I’m getting ticked off by all your concerns.”

  Olk lifted his shoulders, conceding the point.

  “A young lady. A magician. Her credentials were excellent. She is the royal magician in . . . er, well, that’s none of your business. While we had your record of successes in front of us, she persuaded us that the makeup of your, er, group, may not be suitable to work on our behalf.”

  “You’re kidding!” I exclaimed. “What’s wrong with us?”

  “Well, it goes without saying!” Olk said. “A runaway apprentice—”

  “My master was assassinated in front of me,” I yelped.

  He went on to my partner.

  “A magikless Pervert.”

  “That’s Per-vect.” Aahz growled. The ochre veins in his eyes swelled, and he tightened his hands into fists. The councilor didn’t seem all that impressed.

  “Yes, well, as you please. Pervect. An enforcer for hire.” Chumley looked at his feet. “An assassin,” he said, looking at Tananda.

  “Retired,” I pointed out. Tanda caught my eye and shook her head almost imperceptibly. I gulped.

  “A discontented Mob moll who is deceiving her uncle with falsified account books . . .”

  “They are not falsified!” Bunny exclaimed, her cheeks pink. “The results are skewed, maybe, but every entry is legitimate!”

  “And this young lady here . . .” he began, indicating Markie.

  The Cupy doll looked up at him with the sweetest expression I had ever seen. She fluttered the long golden lashes framing her large blue eyes.

  “If you complete that sentence, I will see to it that you will be more sorry than you can possibly imagine. For the rest of your lives.”

  Olk swallowed hard. Apparently he had a rather vivid imagination, and he really did know Markie’s reputation.

  “Er, well. And your dragon here, who has, well, natural dragonish propensities.”

  “Gleep!” my dragon protested. He looked hurt.

  “I admit that you have information on all of us,” I said, feeling stung, as he no doubt intended I should. “What we are is not what we do. I think if your files are really complete, you can see our rate of success is higher than anyone else’s, and that we treat our clients with the utmost respect. Our experience allows us to think in ways that other groups can’t. Has the ‘concern’ you hired succeeded at getting rid of your problem?”

  He squirmed uncomfortably.

  “Well, no. She hasn’t.” He looked right and left as if afraid of being overheard, then leaned toward us, dropping his voice to a whisper. “She might be just the smallest part out of her depth. In my rather uninformed opinion.”

  “Well, she’s preventing us from fulfilling our contract with our client, and it sounds like she’s leaving you in the lurch, too.”

  The council didn’t like it, but they were too desperate to ignore it. Olk toyed with the whistle around his neck.

  “Er, that is true, sir. What do you propose?”

  “We need to find your snobby magician and stop her,” said Bunny. “Then we find this Nix Pyx and destroy it. I have a feeling once we get rid of that, the Loving Cup will turn up again. But we don’t have much time! Looie returns the day after tomorrow—tomorrow, now. If we don’t have it, he’s through with us. Uncle Bruce will be so disappointed!”

  “We have no idea what this young lady magician looks like,” I said.

  “Sure we do,” Aahz said. “Your girlfriend. The one who tried to get us killed in Maire. The one we caught ransacking a room.”

  I frowned. “I think you’re right. She seemed like she didn’t want to be here. She was as out of place as we were.”

  “Exactly, partner,” Aahz said. “We have to find her and stop her, one way or the other.”

  Helfa pulled a parchment scroll out of the air and unrolled it.

  “Is this the young lady that you met?”

  A wistful image with beautiful blue eyes peered back at me from the paper. It took only one glance for me to confirm what I feared.

  “Yes,” I said. “That’s her.”

  “Dorinda of Zaf,” Bunny read from the paragraph beneath the drawing. “Never heard of it.”

  “Small-time dimension,” Aahz said. “Agrarian, same level as most of Klah. About as interesting as leftovers on a Thursday.”

  “Good,” said Markie. “Now we have a name to put on her tombstone.”

  “Wait a minute!” I
said. “Who said anything about killing her?”

  Markie regarded me with astonishment.

  “Why defend her? I bet she’s the one who has been stealing jobs from M.Y.T.H., Inc. She’s knocking your reputation to get the work away from you, so don’t feel sorry for her.”

  “I wasn’t!” I protested. I could tell none of them believed me. I didn’t really believe me, either. I was torn. She seemed too nice.

  “I presume,” Savva said, with a heavy sigh, “that M.Y.T.H., Inc., will also demand a fee for the services you are now offering?”

  “We can talk about that later,” Bunny said, coldly. “We’ve wasted enough time sitting in your waiting room.”

  “Where is this Dorinda right now?” Aahz asked the council. Helfa shook her head.

  “We don’t know. Neither she nor any of our enemies appear in our tapestry. There are, er, numerous blank spots. Natural magik-repelling elements in the soil, plus privacy spells.”

  “That’s inconvenient,” Aahz said. “When this is all over, you ought to hire us to check over your security arrangements.”

  “Find Dorinda, find the cup,” Tananda said. “She might be the one who forced Servis to steal it.”

  “But she’s a magician, too,” Bunny pointed out. “Isn’t she likely to change her appearance?”

  I shook my head.

  “With the constraints on the force lines here, she might run out of power, so I doubt she can keep a disguise spell going forever. We just keep looking. She can’t hide forever.” He patted Haroon on the head. “And we have a secret weapon.”

  “Well, you’re right, young pup,” the Canidian said, with a wry smile peeking out between his floppy jowls. “Chances are pretty darned good I can sniff her out in no time.”

  “Good,” I said. “Because no time is what we have left.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  “Let’s just talk.”

  —M. CORLEONE

  The council promised us full access to all parts of Winslow, both public and private. They put out a notice with the image of Dorinda to several trusted, longtime employees to keep an eye out for her.

  It turned out the greatest concentration of blank places in the tapestry map was in the private residences in the resort. After a conference the next morning on the most likely unseeable places this Dorinda could use as a bolthole between her attempts to search out Winslow’s blackmailers, we split up. I took Gleep with me.

  The most likely way to get in the door of all those rooms was to disguise myself as a waiter. The council agreed that I could deliver breakfast to guests, as long as I didn’t make any mistakes or offend anyone. They sent one of the real waiters, Picnick, with me. Watching closely to make certain the lack wouldn’t drain a necessary process, they let me, Markie, and Tananda fill up as much as we could from the force lines they were jealously guarding. Keeping back only as much power as I needed to protect myself and Gleep in case the female magician attacked us, I put on the appearance of one of the blue-skinned, white-haired Winslovaks. I donned a uniform and set out to work.

  * * *

  “But I didn’t order a dragon!” bellowed the Deveel wearing a damp bath towel as he opened the door to my knock.

  “But it’s a chance to pet a dragon,” I said, cheerfully, as I helped Picnick float the room service table into the room. “Specialty of the house. He’s very tame. Safe even for small children to play with.”

  The Deveel was not alone. A very beautiful, gold-skinned female with four arms, tusks protruding from her lower jaw, and clad in a filmy white gown waved at me from the small dinner table against the wall.

  “I’ll pet him!” she said. “Oooh, what beautiful green scales! Can I have one?”

  I glanced at Gleep. He shed scales all the time, but I had never tried to pluck one from his skin. But my dragon was game for anything that would get him some attention. He bounded over to the woman and shoved his head up under her lower right hand. She ran long, red-varnished nails up and down his spine. Gleep shivered with delight and licked her in the face with his long tongue. He wriggled his forequarters, and a shower of scales rained down on the woman. She gathered them up and fondled his ears.

  “Thank you! Oooh, he’s so cute!”

  “Gleep!” Gleep said, putting his head in her lap.

  “Hey, back off!” the Deveel shouted at Gleep. “She’s mine.”

  Picnick and I set plates, cutlery, and covered dishes on the table for the couple. By then, I had sent a fingerful of magik around the room. Neither of these two was disguised, and no one else was hidden in any of the closets or side rooms.

  “Happy to be of service,” I said, backing out into the corridor. With one final swipe of his slimy tongue across the golden woman’s face, Gleep thundered out after me.

  * * *

  Every time we made a delivery from our rolling tray, another load popped into being on yet another pristine white tablecloth, accompanied by brilliantly polished silver flatware and sparkling crystal glasses. Picnick tapped on the next door.

  “If the food is sent here by magik, then why deliver it by hand at the door?” I asked.

  “All our service is personalized, sir,” Picnick said, beaming. “Our guests in these residences prefer us to bring their meals and arrange everything. It would be so unfriendly if we just sent the food in. Although we have a few visitors who don’t want to see anyone else while they are here.” His thin brows drew slightly together.

  “Do you disapprove of that?”

  “Oh, no, sir! It’s not my place to judge one’s preferences,” he said, his white brows jumping up his blue forehead. “It would be easier to see if they are happy if they would allow us to make contact. We only wish to please.”

  “Do you think any of those anonymous visitors are the people who are trying to steal your guest files?” I asked.

  For the first time Picnick looked angry.

  “I hope not! I . . . I . . . I would refuse to bring them drinks!” He stopped, appalled at himself, and clapped a hand over his mouth. He spoke through his fingers. “Oh, sir, I hope you can find them! Our council is the most kind and considerate you can imagine. They are very troubled by the situation. It is worrying all of us. I hope you can bring back our magik!”

  “That’s what we’re trying to do,” I said firmly. I reached over the tray and rapped on the door. It swung open by itself.

  Gleep galloped happily into the room. A family who looked like Klahds but with fine-scaled faces and long, flaming red tresses gathered around him and began to talk to him in an unfamiliar tongue consisting of hisses, whispers, honks, and roars. Gleep replied in the same language. I stared in amazement. I had never met anyone who spoke Dragon before. After we delivered their piping hot meals, I drew Gleep aside.

  “Who were they?” I whispered.

  “Wyverns . . . cousins . . . Dragons . . .”

  “Really?” I glanced back at the door, tempted to go back and talk with them.

  “Come on, sir,” Picnick interrupted my thoughts. “We have fifty-four more stops to make!”

  * * *

  “How do you do that every morning?” I asked, slogging along next to Picnick as we returned the empty cart through a crackling magik portal to the vast kitchens for the last time. It was midafternoon and I had to use some of the energy I was hoarding to keep from falling flat on my face.

  “Every morning and every lunchtime,” Picnick said, cheerfully. “I love my job! I wish everyone were as happy as I am. Too bad you don’t want to work here. I think you’d be great.”

  “Thanks.” At first I thought he was being sarcastic, but I decided he meant it. “And thank you for your help. I hope my friends had more luck than we did.”

  “I do hope so,” Picnick said, shaking hands with me. “I will keep a lookout for the young lady. None of my companions remember seeing her in the resi
dences. All we have seen is our host of regulars. But, as you say, she might be wearing a disguise.”

  I went back to the Round Castle and reported to my friends. None of them had found a trace of a hidden magician, good or bad. The council had sent us a scroll. No one else had seen this Dorinda in days.

  “We’re sunk,” Tanda said, her chin sunk glumly in her palm. Chumley patted her on the shoulder.

  Bunny squared her shoulders. “I’ll explain to Looie when he gets here.”

  “No,” I said. “We’re not sunk. Perhaps Looie was right about saving on expenses and this Dorinda goes home every evening after looking for the cup. That means we have to catch her in the act.”

  “But how?” Bunny asked. I shrugged.

  “I don’t know that yet. I need to think. Anyone want to go and have a drink with me?” I glanced at Bunny. “Just one.”

  “There’s plenty of booze here,” Aahz said, with a suspicious glance at me.

  I shook my head. “I think better with a lot of noise around. I’m going over to the Rusty Hinge. I wouldn’t mind some company.”

  “We’ll find you later,” Aahz said. He flopped into a solid armchair and slung his legs onto the footrest. “I’ve had enough of happy people for a while.”

  * * *

  “What’ll it be, Mr. Skeeve?” asked the attractive server in the Rusty Hinge. Since the day after we had won the Scavenger Hunt, my ban on entering the inn seemed to have been lifted for good. I was glad, because the inn was the one place I felt even a little at home in the lush resort.

  “A glass of wine,” I said. “Just one.”

  She poured clear, pale green liquid into a tall glass and set it in front of me. I sniffed it appreciatively. Even without the feel-good spell that was everywhere in Winslow, I knew it was good wine. I took a sip.

  Where could I look next for the girl, or Servis, or the cup? What did we do next? I was tired and frustrated.

  A card game was under way at the table near the door. I glanced up at them. The dealer caught my eye. I recognized Swush, the Landshark I had met in the employee canteen. So that was another staged game for the benefit of a gathering of visitors from other dimensions. He tipped me a playful salute and went back to openly cheating his companions. I sipped my wine and sat watching, wondering when one of them would protest against the Shark’s clumsy card handling and miscounting of chips. Now that I knew what he was doing, I realized how much skill went into the appearance of inept dishonesty.